


i guess all i ever loved was standing right before my eyes (i was blind)

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, and like there isn't much happening with malum, idek what this is really, just late confessions, luke and ashton are only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:47:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And now?” Michael asks with a shaky voice. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me now?” He’s afraid to look up, worried that Calum will judge him for the tears in his eyes, so he occupies himself by drying his hands on the hand towel.</p><p>Calum sets the second mug by the first on the counter and puts the dishcloth down before he whispers Michael’s name quietly and Michael finally turns his head to look at his old friend.</p><p> </p><p>Or, it's years before they see each other again and everything has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i guess all i ever loved was standing right before my eyes (i was blind)

**Author's Note:**

> after months i am finally back (i'm actually working on a lashton fic atm so hopefully when i disappear again it's not for too long). i hope this is okay, i got the idea a few of nights ago at 3am and then i wrote it the following evening at 11pm. i mean it's not the best but ????? thank you for reading if you do. title is from skyscrapers by okgo, though i did not listen to that song once while writing this.

Solitude is bliss. Michael tells himself this in the moments when he longs to be alone. He doesn’t even consider that pulling away could be bad for him, for everyone else.

He’s twenty-three when things start to fall apart.

He stops going to band practices, stops going to interviews, stops going out when he doesn’t have to and he stops thinking of anything other than his constant desire to be engulfed in silence as he lies beneath sheets in bare rooms. He starts falling apart, threads coming slowly undone, and for the first time during the seven years the four had been a band, the others soon follow.

(Ashton’s angry all the time, “Where were you?” “We need you at practice, fuck, Michael!”  “Stop thinking about yourself and think about the fact that this is all of our lives!” 

And Luke. Luke starts biting his lips until they bleed, starts pulling his hair out. “Guys please don’t fight.” “We need to stick together, please.” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

But Calum never changes, Calum stays the way he has always been, and during the days that Michael hides away beneath blankets ignoring texts from Ashton, (“You’re always letting us down.”) Calum is always the one to come and find him and hide beneath the blankets with him (“Ashton’s kinda pissed, and like we have a show in three days, please Mikey. For me.”) and Michael always listens to him. Always does what he asks.)

He’s kind of scared, but not as much as he suspects he should be, when he figures out what’s happening. It happens on a normal morning when they’re staying at one of their houses in America and he’s sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket looking into the kitchen and Ashton has just spilt the milk and let out a string of curse words while Luke lets out a surprised yelp, and _this is it_ , he thinks as Calum comes and sits opposite him on the couch, their feet touching, not saying a word. This is where the countdown begins till they reach the day they thought would never come, and with an apology they say goodbye to all the years of hard work.

Michael feels relieved.

* 

Two years later Michael finds himself in England with a promise to keep in contact with the three most important people in his life. “I need time to myself,” he says before leaving, and the others agree, all going their separate ways to start living separate lives after letting down far too many people for it to ever leave their conscience.

It’s easy, almost too easy, to begin living the life he had started dreaming of living during the last years of being in _5 Seconds of Summer_. He’s living on the outskirts of London in his own place with nothing but silence and memories, and though it feels like the world has been lifted off of his shoulders, a heaviness soon sets over his chest. Soon the silence becomes too much and days are spent roaming wordlessly around his flat with loud music playing, or spending hours going round on the Tube, walking round the city, stumbling through parks, walking, wondering. He’s lost, he realises. He’s wandering though life with nothing and no one to latch onto, to keep him steady. Though this realisation is soon followed by another, he’s four years late and he no longer knows if he has the strength to pick up the phone and call one of his old best friends, apologising for breaking a promise he had no idea he couldn’t keep.

He fucked up. _He’s_ fucked up, threw away an incredible career, pushed away the only people he truly cared about. Guilt eats away at him for years. He comes home from wandering the city aimlessly and collapses on the floor heaving, body aching and arms yearning to hold someone who wants to hold him back. He forgets what Ashton’s laugh sounded like, forgets it in a way that he starts contemplating whether he heard it at all. He forgets what Luke’s hugs felt like and it’s like he’s never really felt warmth since the day Luke wrapped his arms around him for the last time at the airport departures. He forgets everything about the two of them and sometimes he goes on the internet, looks up interviews, music videos, of the times when they were all still _LukeHemmingsAshtonIrwinCalumHoodandMichaelClifford_ and they were young and happy and together, and really it tears Michael up because he can’t do a Google search and watch a video of the first time he and Luke talked to each other as friends, or the first time he saw Ashton play the drums for them in the hopes that he could be a part of their band.

The worst part is he still thinks about Calum a lot, and he misses him. Misses him but not like he misses Ashton and Luke, because it’s just _so fucking different._ Because Calum was always there, from when he was a kid on the playground to when he walked through the departing gate, only to look back and see Calum mouth the words ‘I love you’. Calum was always Calum, and it’s such a complicated thing to think about that he just doesn’t, he lies on the floor and wishes for a life where things make sense.

He spends six years stuck in the same place. London is like this big hole that’s sucked him in and now he’s too afraid to leave and _fuck_ he knows what the wooden floors of his flat feel like better than his bed and sometimes he wishes that he could just go back and tell himself to just make an effort or something so he wouldn’t ruin his entire life. He needs change. He needs to be loved. He’s sick of being alone. But it was always what he wanted wasn’t it?

It happens at 5 o’clock in the afternoon on a Friday and he’s fucking exhausted and he doesn’t even know where he is anymore when he hears it. “Michael? Michael Clifford?” And maybe it’s an old fan, because the only people who ever seem to say his name anymore are women with wedding rings asking for his autograph and thanking him for making music during their teen years, and like, that’s what he hopes because his heart stops when he hears that name, _that voice_ , and he’s afraid that if he turns even just a little to the left he’s going to start crying.

It’s been six years since he’s seen Calum Hood but when Michael finally turns and sees him, it feels like no time has passed. It’s like nothing has changed.

He lets out the breath he’d been holding, “Yeah.”

It’s hard to say what he feels in that moment. What he wants to do is rewind and stop this from happening, no matter how much he wanted to go back to how things were, he certainly wasn’t ready to see such an important part of his past. His head is spinning, and he doesn’t know what to say. He wishes he never left the house that morning.

“Michael, wow,” Calum says in front of him, right arm slightly outstretched, they’re a couple of meters from each other, _why is he reaching for me?_ Michael thinks. “It’s good to see you. How are you?” he asks and Michael doesn’t know what to do so he shakes his head slightly and starts to move forward, certain he stumbles slightly before wrapping his arms around Calum’s neck and pulling him down into a close hug. They both melt into each other as if it’s been six days and not six years. Michael wants to cry but doesn’t know if he’s able to at this point.

They hold onto each other for a while, neither making a move to let go. “I’m so sorry,” Michael finally says quietly, right next to Calum’s ear.

“I know,” Calum answers. He understands. He always does.

Calum wants to talk so he suggests they go to a pub right when Michael suggests they go back to his flat. 

He’s afraid he’s scared Calum off when neither of them speak for a few moments but then, “Yeah that sound’s good.” Calum starts moving forward, “It’s home isn’t it?” and Michael’s lurching forward to keep up, heart pounding so loud he can hear it in his ears.

They sit opposite each other on the train and the two can’t help but stare at each other. Calum looks the same, slightly different, thinner and less muscular, more prominent cheekbones, he looks tired, worn out, Michael supposes he looks the same.

(Calum is looking at Michael and all he sees is the boy he knew all those years ago with the long fringe and the light blond hair and he wants to say to Michael now, “I’m glad you stopped dying your hair,” because when he looks across at the man he hasn’t seen for years, he remembers all the years he spent with him.)

Michael stands up when the train pulls up at his stop and when the two step off onto the platform he has to tell himself not to reach for Calum’s hand like he would have if they were still nineteen. The two make their way out of the station and down the street towards Michael’s flat, and if Calum notices how cold it is or how quiet or how nothing about the place makes it feel like a home when they walk inside, then well, he doesn’t say anything about it. Michael takes his coat, hangs it up, gestures for Calum to sit at the small table by the windows, moves to the kitchen, starts the coffee machine up, tries to stop his hands from shaking.

He carries two mugs over to the table and Calum quietly thanks him as Michael sits down opposite him at the table. “You really wanted to get away from us didn’t you,” Calum eventually says, breaking the silence that had settled over the both of them. It’s not a question, as if Calum doesn’t believe there could ever be a possibility that Michael hadn’t chosen to wholeheartedly and happily leave everyone behind. It hurts, and he doesn’t really know what to say.

“You know we all really missed you, we still do.”

“You see Ashton and Luke?” Michael asks, surprised. He wasn’t expecting this to be the first thing he says and he’s almost disappointed in himself. He discards the speech he made in his mind while on the train. His hands are wrapped around his hot mug and it’s an uncomfortable pain but he doesn’t move them.

Calum scoffs, “Unlike you I wanted to keep in contact with the people I considered brothers.” Michael’s heart drops to his stomach and he ducks his head, eyes focusing on the swirls in the dark brown of his coffee.

Calum sighs and moves his mug up to blow slightly on his coffee before lowering it again. “Look,” he begins carefully, “I’m not here to lecture you and to make you feel guilty for making the decision to leave, I just thought you were going to keep talking to us, I thought you cared.”

“I did care!” Michael announces trying to defend himself. “Do care… Everything just, I don’t know, everything got fucked up and I couldn’t handle it anymore but by then I knew that you guys wouldn’t want me back and so I didn’t even try. I didn’t want to break my own heart more, I guess.” He finishes the sentence with a sigh and a shrug and looks to the left out the window where the late September sun was setting, casting soft light into the room.

“Of course we would want you back,” Calum tries to argue but Michael just shakes his head, sighs, and looks down again. Michael lifts his mug to take a sip of his coffee and Calum soon does the same.

"It wasn't your fault,” Calum begins after a few minutes, “it wasn't anyone's fault really, but I mean... I know you blame yourself for what happened because you were pulling away."

Michael sighs softly and looks out the window again, anywhere but Calum's eyes. "You're right, I did blame myself, _do_ blame myself, because if I hadn't of started closing up, Ashton wouldn't have gotten so angry, and Luke wouldn't have gotten so stressed out and I can't help but feel I led everyone but you to fall apart."

Calum has one eyebrow slightly raised at this point. "Did you not think I was falling apart too?" he asks before lifting his mug up once more to take a sip.

"No," Michael says, slightly blunt but he's being honest, this is his last chance to be he supposes. His voice sounds far too tired when he talks once again. "I didn't think you were falling apart because while Ashton was sending himself insane trying to keep us together and while Luke was spending every moment by himself buried under blankets with red eyes, you were there and you were, well, _you_."

"Me?" 

"Yes, the one who kept on playing as if nothing was wrong, as if you didn't think any performance we did was going to be near our last. While we were questioning every decision we ever made, you were reminding me why we made them in the first place. Why we choose music, why _I_ chose music." Michael sighs again, and by this point he's given up trying to stop. "I don't know Cal," he begins again, "I don't think I'll ever be able to explain anything that happened during those nine years we were a band."

Calum takes a small sip from his drink again and Michael is sure he sees a faint smile from behind his mug. "What?" Michael asks.

"It's nothing," Calum answers. "It's just after all these years I forgot what that nickname sounded like when you said it."

Calum sets his now empty mug back on the table, letting the silence settle over them both once more. “I loved you, you know,” he says while they both look out the window at the setting sun, small droplets of rain starting to hit the glass.

“I know,” Michael answers and he’s glad he’s sitting down because he feels faint.

“Like more than friends,” Calum says almost urgently, turning back to Michael to look right at him. Michael knows what Calum means, but he doesn’t dare move or say anything. “Like I honestly pictured us having a life together or some shit.” He chuckles harshly and moves to pick up his mug before remembering it was empty. 

Michael runs a shaky hand through his hair. “So did I,” he admits and now he’s looking right at Calum. “Like you made me so happy, and I wanted that for the rest of my life.” He’s clasped his hands together now in an attempt to stop them from shaking so much. “I fucked up my entire life because I left the band,” he says solemnly and outside the rain starts hitting the windows harder. “I thought I needed to get away from the life I had, to be alone, but,” he swallows heavily, “leaving you was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

He feels naked, he’s just bared his soul to someone he hardly knows anymore, so he gets up and reaches over to grab Calum’s mug and carries the two back to the kitchen to begin washing them up in the cold water.

He hears Calum approaching from behind him and before Michael can register what is happening, Calum has grabbed the dishcloth and has begun drying the first mug.

“You know,” he says turning to face Michael. “Years ago, I had convinced myself that I would never be able to forgive you.” 

“And now?” Michael asks with a shaky voice. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me now?” He’s afraid to look up, worried that Calum will judge him for the tears in his eyes, so he occupies himself by drying his hands on the hand towel.

Calum sets the second mug by the first on the counter and puts the dishcloth down before he whispers Michael’s name quietly and Michael finally turns his head to look at his old friend. “I already have,” Calum finally murmurs in answer and Michael reaches up to wipe away the tear from beneath Calum’s right eye.

They talk a lot more after that, and it’s easier. Calum tells Michael about his life back in Australia, along with Ashton and Luke who had finally settled down together, and in exchange Michael tells Calum about his sleepless nights and silent days spent walking over creaky floorboards, and soon, without recognition, the two find their hands clasped together as they look out the windows through the falling rain at the endless city lights.

(The next morning Michael wakes up with blurry eyes and mussed hair, and sits up to stare at the imprint of another body in the sheets for a moment. There’s loud rattling in the kitchen and Calum’s singing wafts through to the bedroom, and after all these years of wondering how it would feel, Michael finally knows what it is like to hold someone who wants to hold you back. He could get used to this feeling, this way of living, he thinks as he flops back down onto the bed with the biggest smile on his face in years.)


End file.
